


Simplicity

by Antosha



Series: Birthday Chronicles [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Birthday, Birthday Sex, F/M, Food Sex, Luna Lovegood Being Luna Lovegood, Multi, Pansexual Luna Lovegood, Polyamory, Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Pregnant Sex, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Semi-Public Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: More Than Two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antosha/pseuds/Antosha
Summary: Sometimes it doesn't pay to make things complicated (H/G/L. Written pre-DH.)
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Birthday Chronicles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736818
Kudos: 7





	Simplicity

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and the happiest of birthdays to aberforths_rug for the help, hand-holding and inspiration!

Her practice robes sodden, her muscles and lungs screaming, Ginny groaned a sigh of relief when Gwenog blew the whistle calling an end to practice. Time was, she hated to stop. But she was getting too old…

Twenty-nine. Not old. But aching more each day, and giving up more flying time to Siobhan and the other younger Chasers every match, it seemed… And thinking of Harry, and their house, and his shoulders, and their flat, and _babies_ , if you please, and his cock…

“Oi!” called Sabina Coot as the Harpies descended, hopping off of their brooms and returning them to the practice pitch’s broom shed, “is that a _crow_ carrying a letter?”

Most of the players hooted at the reserve Seeker, telling her that she was losing her eyesight, but Ginny pushed her sweaty hair out of her very keen eyes—her hair never stayed back, no matter how she tied or Charmed it—and looked up to find Huggin, Luna’s raven, swooping down toward the pitch, a roll of parchment in his beak. He landed on Ginny’s shoulder, dropped the letter in her hand, and squawked out, “Happy birthday!”

“Not a crow, a raven,” Ginny muttered. _Not parchment: velum_.

As her teammates howled with laughter, Ginny wiped her rosin-streaked fingers on her practice robes so as not to ruin the lovely letter simply by opening it.

“Your birthday, Gin?” asked Nausicaa Gyre, always on the lookout for a party.

Gwenog growled, “Hers and the Boy’s’re in the summer. Mind you, if you had attended, you wouldn’t remember, so there’d be no way to know one way or another.”

The girls howled again, and Ginny joined them. The parties that she and Harry had thrown over the years for their joint birthday season are legendary, it’s true, but none of the Harpies have any idea just how wild Harry’s last birthday celebration was.

The only people who knew _that_ , thank Merlin, were herself, Harry, and Luna.

And Luna. ( _Feet arched just so, tongue and then mouth on Ginny’s toes—what would it feel like to_ receive _a blowjob?—long fingers guiding Harry in…_ )

Ginny shivered, sweaty as she was. As her teammates bantered on, she opened the letter.

_Luna Lovegood requests the pleasure of your presence at the celebration of the thirtieth anniversary of her birth on the penultimate day of Scorpio at the hour of moonrise at her abode, number twenty-one A, Diagon Alley._

_Your presence is her gift._

“Any of you lot got a star calendar?” Ginny called, fighting down images of a wild head of dirty blond hair between her own thighs and a thick, familiar cock in front of her face.

  
  


: :

  
  


_The pleasure of you presence…_

_Your presence is her gift…_

Harry shook his head, annoyed that his ever-adolescent brain could read such a lovely, formal invitation as anything but.

But…

Bloody hell.

Padma was quite amused to help Harry figure out when the next-to-last day was that the sun would be in Scorpio (November 19—that very day) and just when the moon would be rising (7:37 that evening). She did point out quite seriously, however, that the two of them had a meeting scheduled with Hermione, Griphook, Dobby and the centaurs that afternoon, and that they would be unlikely to return from Scotland before 7:00.

“Bugger,” he snorted.

Padma raised an eyebrow, questioning the rare obscenity.

“Did you get an invite to Luna’s do?” he asked.

“No,” said Padma. “Was that what all this were about?”

“Yeah,” he answered, frowning. “It’s her thirtieth.”

“Yes?” Padma offered, but he didn’t feel comfortable sharing any more. “Not that she and I were ever that close, but I can’t remember her ever throwing a birthday party for herself.”

“No.”

Her smile bright against her dark skin, she said, “Well, knowing Luna, it’s sure to be pretty wild!”

Harry could only nod, hoping he wouldn’t blush.

  
  


: :

  
  


_Ginny—_

_Did you get an invite from Luna for tonight? Obviously, I want to help her celebrate her birthday, but only if you can be there._

Ginny smiled. Silly boy—he was probably trying to keep any innuendo out of the note, but it crept in spite of all of his Good Boy intentions.

_Help me celebrate her birthday…_

“I bet he does,” sighed Ginny to Hedwig, who flew up to her home perch by the rear window as Ginny sank, newly showered and energized, into the sitting room sofa. ( _Four sets of fingers on my…_ )

_Sorry for sending Hedwig. I can’t make it home first—we’ve got a Foundation thing going on until just before the party starts—so if you want us to go, just send her back._

_Harry_

Ginny raises an eyebrow to Harry’s venerable white owl. “Thank you. Can you carry a note back for me?”

  
  


: :

  
  


_Dear Harry—_

_Oh, I agree, we should help her celebrate her big three-oh. I would enjoy nothing more. Yes, that would be really_ enjoyable _._

_I’ll meet you in the lobby at 7:30—if you figured out the next-to-last day of Scorpio, you figured out moonrise, right? And if you’re held up, no problem—just join us at the party._

_Of course, if you’re not there by the time the other guests leave, maybe I’d have to give her her present without you._

_Would you mind that terribly?_

_Love,_

_Ginny_

_PS I think I’ll wear the mint-green silk-and-lace thing you gave me last year—under my robes, of course. Do you think Luna would like that? Or perhaps I should go with nothing at all underneath… Yes. That would be just right. I think she would like that an awful lot. After all, while it is fun to unwrap a present, playing with it is even better._

_Well, come when you can!_

  
  


: :

  
  


Harry’s breath caught as he read the last lines of Ginny’s postscript—he knew she was playing with him, but _bloody hell_ ….

He briefly toyed with the idea of begging off the meeting, Flooing home and ravishing her, or at least of closing the door to his office for just a bit and—

Hermione stuck her head through the door—her crisp business robes marked with a small baby fistprint just on her shoulder—and asked if Harry was ready to go.

“I’m coming,” he muttered, and followed her to the Apparition Point.

  
  


: :

  
  


At 7:37, Ginny found herself pacing in the lobby of the WWW/Potter-Weasley Foundation offices. It was mostly quiet, and she was perfectly respectably dressed—on the outside, at least—but she felt suddenly very much as she used to when she would stumble down to a kitchen full of her brothers eating breakfast the morning after one of her clandestine flights aboard one of their brooms: she felt sure that everyone could _see_ , that everyone _knew_.

In spite of the fact that there was hardly anyone here. No one. Not even Harry.

Ginny jumped as Padma scurried through the lobby. “Hey, Padma!”

“Hello, Ginny—sorry we’re so late, you know the centaurs, talk, talk, talk, but it was a fairly productive meeting, I think.” Padma paused, straightening her robes. She smiled and—remarkably—winked. “Harry has been desperate to get back to you, lucky girl. Have a wonderful time at Luna’s. And afterwards, I shouldn’t be surprised.” She wrapped a red and purple scarf around her coal-dark hair, waved, and stepped out into the late-autumn dark.

_He can’t have told…_

“There you are!”

Ginny turned and he swooped over to her, taking her in his arms. She leaned into the embrace. “Hey, handsome.”

Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her hard, his hands moving quickly down her back. Just as they were about to reach her bum—just as her body started to respond—he stepped back and took her hand. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

She followed him out into the misting Diagon Alley evening, her hand still clasped in his.

As they walked up the cobblestones, he laughed. “Missed you.”

She grinned, squeezing his hand. “Just me?”

“Yes, _you_ , woman,” he answered, voice warm and low. Neville and Susan walked by—headed in the other direction. “Thought your last letter was going to kill me.”

The heat of that last statement flashed through her despite the evening’s damp chill. She leaned up and murmured into his ear, “Have a nice wank at your desk, did you, thinking of me and Luna?”

“Didn’t have time,” he grunted. “Hermione showed up. Then we had to leave.”

“Poor Harry,” she said, grinning. “Well, if you hadn’t chosen to be so punctual, you could have brought me up and we could have—”

He pulled her into a tiny, twisting alleyway between two buildings; they were still four or five doors down from Ollivander’s and Luna’s flat.

“What?” For a brief moment she thought that she’d embarrassed or angered him in some way—his mouth was set, his cheeks dark.

“Doing okay on time, aren’t we?” he said through gritted teeth. He pulled her around to the back of the alley; it veered so that they were out of sight of the light traffic in the main street.

“Uh, yeah,” answered Ginny more than a little breathily. She didn’t want to think too deeply about where Harry was going—she hadn’t seen him like this in years. “Don’t want to show up too—”

Suddenly he was kissing her again, kissing her even more emphatically than the last time. This time she kissed him back, fingers finding his hair. His hands moved down her body again, and this time they didn’t stop. “Merlin, Gin!” he groaned as his fingers flowed across her bum, hot and probing as if her robes weren’t there. Feeling the skin that was right beneath the outer layer. “You did.”

“Uh-huh,” she answered, breathy. “Standing in the lobby, the air on my cunt, feeling as if everyone who walked by could see, but knowing it was a secret—”

He groaned into her mouth and pushed her back with his body; suddenly she was pressed back between the cold brick of the building behind her and his growing heat. His hands kept moving down, over her thighs, started to gather…

“Harry!”

“Got to.” One hand moved under the robes, gently but firmly up between her thighs, until one cold finger brushed her warm, moist, naked pussy. They both groaned then. “Merlin, Gin.”

She felt as if lightning were shooting from his fingertip up through her clit to her heart as he stroked her. It was all that she could do to hold on to his neck, gasping.

They weren’t kids anymore. They didn’t do this kind of thing any more—hadn’t been able to when they were kids. Where had this come from?

Blame it on Luna.

He shifted, his left hand moving at the front of his own robes, his right continuing to spark small eruptions within her. After a moment, he took his blessed finger away from her clit—she groaned at the separation—grabbed her by her hips, lifting her up against the alley wall, and thrust into her.

They both usually loved long, languorous rounds of foreplay—tongues, fingers, whatever else slowly stoking each other to full flame.

No need for that now. They were both already alight.

She felt the brick banging against her back, felt his cocking plunging up into her, and she was amazed at how _good_ it felt. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close, closer, and she started to moan.

He covered her mouth with his, muffling her groans, filling her mouth with heat even as he filled her cunt with flame.

Suddenly—instantly—he stiffened, and the feeling of heat within her became an explosion, fierce and _wet_ , and he was the one stifling his screams in her mouth.

They rest there, panting. His cock still inside of her. His come dripping along her bum.

“Wow,” she said.

“You didn’t—”

“Shhh,” she said, as they gingerly uncoupled. “That was bloody marvelous. And trust me, you’ll get your chance, later.”

He kissed her again, more gently, but still firm. “And maybe I’ll get some help.”

“Maybe,” she said with a grin. “Come on. If we go now, we’ll just be fashionably late.”

  
  


: :

  
  


He couldn’t believe that they’d just done that—that _he’d_ just done that—but bloody hell, did he feel like crowing. And as Ginny had just pointed out, the night was still young.

They crossed the last half-block to Ollivander’s, their bodies attached, their hands grasping. It was as if the sudden flood of _touch_ had sparked an addiction, as if they couldn’t get enough. A couple who looked as if they should still be at Hogwarts and an old witch with chartreuse hair passed by, and Harry felt as if the could see what he and Ginny had just done, could see how excited they both were about what might be about to happen, and yet none spared them so much as a glance.

It had been more than a year since he and Ginny had last visited Luna’s flat—that for a Victory Day celebration. He thought as he did every time that he was there that there was something surreal about the fact that Luna lived in a building even older than Hogwarts—it was supposed to have dated from Roman times, if the stories could be believed. Then again, in many ways, a surreal home suited Luna perfectly.

They wandered up the dark, worn steps, and Harry briefly toyed with giving in to an impulse to push Ginny up against this wall too, and snog what breath she had caught back out of her. As he turned to her, however, she was frowning.

“Do you hear anything?” she asked.

“Uh, no,” he said, very aware of the way that the fine hair on the back of her head, which had been neatly coifed, had been mussed by the alley wall; there was brick dust on the back of her lovely green robes. “No, why?”

“Wonder if we’ve come the wrong night,” she mused, biting her lip.

“Only one way to find out,” Harry said, leading her to the door. “Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”

He knocked on the door and it swung open—no one was inside, and the only noise was an atonal plainsong from what somewhere in the depths of the huge old flat, and Huggin’s squawked, “Happy birthday!”

He and Ginny peered at each other.

Ginny shrugged and called, “Loony?”

The plainsong stopped. “Oh, hullo, Ginny! How lovely that you came.” Luna’s airy voice floated through the flat like incense.

Ginny smiled and winked at Harry. “’Course I _came_ , silly! Where’s everyone else?”

He and Ginny walked cautiously into the flat, closing the door behind them.

“Everyone else?” said a voice that seemed to waft at them from everywhere.

“Um, guests?” Ginny asked.

“Well, I don’t suppose Harry is here,” Luna mused, and then started singing tunelessly to herself once again.

Grinning a particularly wicked smile, Ginny elbowed him.

“Er, yeah, Luna, right here,” he said, peering about to get some idea of where she was. Not in the study or in the dining room…

“Oh, good, we can start soon then,” Luna said—or sang, it was hard to tell which.

Harry looked at Ginny and she at him, her face set in the bemused grin that Luna so often evoked in her. “Great,” he said. “Where’s _here_?”

“Well, since I’m making ice cream, I’m in the kitchen, of course,” Luna spoke-sang. “I thought that would be obvious.”

“Of course,” answered Harry, smiling as he shook his head.

Ginny took Harry’s elbow and pulled him past the piles of ancient artifacts—including what looked to be a very phallic ivory carving of an old man with an enormous forehead—and into the dining room, which was set quite beautifully, the sideboard and table dark and gleaming, china, silver and crystal sparkling brightly. Running her fingers up the inside of his forearm, she whispered, “Ice cream sounds fun, in any case.”

As they turned towards the kitchen the sound of Luna’s song was clearer. “ _In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine…_ ”

She was standing at the counter, which was splattered with various ingredients, her hips and round bum wiggling to a different rhythm than the one that she was singing. She wasn’t wearing a stitch.

Ginny’s fingernails, which had been teasing him, suddenly dug into his arm; they both huffed in surprise.

 _Yet another question answered_ , Harry decided. In his head, he heard Padma say—rather more wickedly than she’d probably actually done—“Well, knowing Luna, it’s sure to be pretty wild!”

Wild, indeed. Harry’s cock, which had been so emphatically sated just fifteen minutes before, was well on its way back to standing tall.

He had spent the months since his birthday working very hard not to fantasize about a repeat of the night of his own thirtieth; as wonderful as it had been, having Luna join them had knocked the supports out from under a lot of the assumptions that they’d both begun to take for granted in their relationship, and he didn’t want to endanger what he and Ginnny had, and what they were considering building—nor their friendship with one of their best and oldest friends.

Even so, seeing that swaying bottom, which seemed even fuller and rounder than he remembered, it was hard not to remember the feel of soft flesh slapping against his hips, the look of two faces side by side as Luna reached her first orgasm—Luna’s transported, Ginny’s stunned.

“Soup is my favorite course, but I know you both are rather fond of pudding, so I thought we’d eat backwards tonight—start with butter brickle and dragonberry sauce, and end with cream of baby Tentacula,” burbled Luna. She turned, a broad, dazed smile on her face…

And he and Ginny gasped again.

Luna’s breasts, each of which he remembered as being a lovely, perfect handful ( _Ginny’s fingers pinching plum-red nipples…_ ) were rather more _ample_. And her tummy, which he hardly remembered at all, having been more focused on points above and below, bellied out like a sail in a steady breeze.

“Hullo, Ginny. Hullo, Harry. It’s so lovely to see you. Does it bother you that I’m naked? I like cooking naked, I get a better feel for the food, and since you’ve both seen me—”

“No,” Harry hears Ginny spout. “No—not bothered. Doesn’t bother. But…”

Luna cocked her head, owl-like. “But I think there’s something wrong. Do you not like dragonberry with butter brickle? I find—”

“You’re _pregnant_!” gasped Harry.

“Yes,” said Luna, cocking her head the other way. “It would be a bit soon for me to have delivered.”

“When were you going to _tell_ us, Loony!” Ginny howled, running over to their friend and throwing her arms around her.

“Tell you?” Luna’s wide eyes managed to widen even further. “Tell you what?”

“That you were _pregnant_ , silly!” Ginny giggled. “We must have talked a dozen times since this happened, and you never mentioned it!”

“I didn’t?” Luna asked.

Harry shook his head.

“Oh, I thought I had.”

Ginny squealed with laughter—it was a particular sound that she only produced for _girl_ things, he’d noticed over the years. She stood back and gazed at Luna. “Look at you! You’re… _gorgeous_.”

Luna did something that Harry had only her do once or twice in their fifteen years of acquaintance—she blushed, the pink carry down through her breasts to the top of the barely distended belly. “Oh, thank you. Do you really think so?”

Harry found that he could only nod.

“How nice. I think I look rather like the Aurignacian Venus figurines. It is quite fascinating.”

Ginny laughed—the more typical, husky laugh—and ran her hands over Luna’s naked, round belly, and Harry found that it was just about the sexiest thing that he had ever seen.

“Well,” Luna said, beaming, face still slightly pink, “let’s eat the first course before it melts.”

  
  


: :

  
  


Ginny waited until Luna had finished her ice cream—it seemed unkind to interrupt the pudding that she’d planned for her and Harry with silly questions, and in all honesty, the home-made ice cream was even better than Ginny’s mum had made. Once they were all happily scraping the bottoms of the tall crystal goblets that Luna had used as bowls, Ginny finally gave in to her curiosity. “So?”

Luna looked up. “I’m sorry. I was rather distracted by the peanuts. Did I miss a question?”

Ginny found herself giggling and saw Harry grin—more likely at Ginny’s giddiness than at Luna’s Luna-ness, which they had gotten rather used to over the years. “No, silly. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Lucky?”

“The _father_ , silly!”

“Well, it’s Harry, of course,” Luna said, smiling at them both before returning to fishing around in the bottom of her bowl for morsels.

A cold weight descended on Ginny’s stomach, and it didn’t have anything to do with the ice cream. “H-harry’s?”

“Oh, yes,” Luna said, smiling at him—he was ashen. “Well, it couldn’t have been the only other male lover I’ve had this year, Obliviator Hossfeld, since he was rather giving to ejaculating before I’d even touched him. I think. The memory of that night is rather hazy, but I did check myself for that and a few other surprises, and besides, the baby would be two months past due.” She gave a rather sadder smile. “I did have a rather more satisfying liaison with Pansy Parkinson last month, but I don’t think that she can have fertilized me, and since I’m at about eighteen weeks gestationally, unless there were a Time-Turner involved—”

“Mine?” Harry said, his voice thin. “You’re having… _our_ baby?”

Blinking, Luna pushed her well-finished sundae away. “I suppose the fetus could be transferred to someone else, though I’m not sure why—”

As Harry shook his head, Ginny snapped. “How _could_ you? How could you keep something like this a secret from us?”

“A secret?” Luna swept a dribble of dragonberry sauce from the inside curve of her suddenly enormous breast.

“We had a right to _know_ , Luna!”

“I…” For the first time since they were young girls, Luna looked abashed. “I was certain that I had told you. That you knew. I didn’t want to talk about something you two clearly weren’t terribly interested in—I know you don’t want children, and so I thought you mustn’t care to talk about it.”

Harry shudders.

“ _Luna_ ,” growls Ginny, attempting to bear down on her temper, “Harry has wanted a family since his was a kid. What on earth gave you the idea that we didn’t want—”

“You said, Ginny.”

“ _YET!_ ” she shouted. “We don’t want to have them _YET_.”

Harry, who still looked deeply in shock, reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “Luna,” he murmured, “I… It’s _your_ baby.”

“Well, that’s rather obvious,” she answered.

He grimaced; with his eyes, he pleaded with Ginny, but she found that she had nothing to give him at the moment. “Well, yes. But… I mean, it’s obviously also my responsibility. Anything that I can do, can _give…_ ”

“Oh,” Luna seemed quite bewildered. She pursed her wide lips and then nodded. “I see. Well, as I have more than enough gold to support several hundred children quite nicely, I’m not sure that I will need any material assistance, but it’s rather nice of you to think of that, if that is indeed what you are thinking of.”

Harry looked at Luna, his mouth open wide.

In spite of her panicked rage, Ginny came to their rescue. “Luna. The baby needs a _father_.”

“It does? She already has—” Luna’s head rocked from one side to the other several times. Finally it came back to rest. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Harry tried again. “I feel responsible.”

“Well, of course you are. And I couldn’t be more pleased that the baby got such excellent genes from your side. But, honestly, Harry…”

Ginny felt Harry tense, felt herself pull into herself.

Luna peered at them both. Nodding at last, she said, “I am sorry. It did not occur to me. I had not thought that you would want anything to do with my child.”

Both of them groaned, “ _Luna!_ ”

Apparently surprised, she sat back.

“Of course we want to have something to do with your baby,” Harry said, his voice clear and strong for the first time since they’d finished their ice cream. “We would even if I hadn’t been the, you know…”

“The father.” Watching him suffer so _hurt_. Even more than it hurt Ginny’s pride that Luna had given him something that he wanted so badly. She laced her hand into his. “Luna, it’s hard to raise a child alone. And it’s a good for it to have men—a man around.”

“I hadn’t thought about that at all,” Luna said, still looking rather less airy than usual. “How silly of me. I hadn’t thought that you would care, and I hadn’t thought about how much a father can mean—I, who had the most wonderful father in the world, notwithstanding yours, of course, Ginny. That was very silly of me. Pregnancy does rather beduddle the brains, you know.”

Without letting go of Harry’s hand, Ginny reached across the table and took Luna’s as well. “Yes. Most unlike you,” she said, putting on a smile because, honestly, she really was pleased for Luna. And for Harry. She only ached for herself, and she could manage that.

“I think,” Luna mused, staring down at Ginny’s smaller hand in her own, “that you think that Harry will suddenly decide to move in with me rather than stay in your very comfortable bed in your very comfortable flat. Is that what you think, Ginny?”

Harry turns to her, his mouth wide. “Of _course_ not—you can’t think I’d do that, Gin, can you?”

A tiny tremor blossoms up from her stomach, closing her throat. Unable to speak, Ginny nods instead, looking at the two hands that are holding her own.

“No,” Luna says, her tone back in its familiar tone of utter repose. “Of course he wouldn’t do that. He has loved you for more than half of your lives. If he said that he would wait, he will wait.”

Harry’s eyes gleam greenly at her.

“Right,” Ginny manages to say. “But… I’m sorry, Luna. It’s all just a bit of a surprise, you know.”

“I suppose I do,” Luna answers, considering. “You know, Harry, Ginny. I rather think that the baby will need a godmother and father. I rather think you would do very well at those jobs, don’t you?”

Nodding, Ginny smiles; Harry takes a deep breath and then sighs too.

“Now,” Luna said, standing, her pale, fertile fullness beautiful against the dark wood paneling, “I think we’re ready for the cheese and fruit course.”

“Luna,” Harry said, very quietly, “did I hear you say that… that it’s a _she_?”

“Oh. Yes. Didn’t I say?” Luna turned back to them from the doorway.

“Not in so many words,” he answered, a smile growing on his face.

“Is that a problem?” Luna asked. “I don’t think anything can be done about it, but—”

“Nah,” Ginny said, laughing again, feeling ease leach out the fear from her gut, “he likes girls.”

Harry laughed too, and Luna joined them, though she didn’t look at all certain why.

  
  


: :

  
  


As they lounged on Luna’s bed, Harry and Ginny kissing Luna’s belly, her full, tender breasts and each other, Luna thought about her time with the Tokoloshe; how their answer to any problem was sex. They were not intrinsically happier than humans—they still suffered grief, sorrow, anxiety, and even jealousy and rage. But if one Tokoloshe were suffering, another or others—male, female, it did not matter—would seek to pacify the sufferer through some lovely touching and genital stimulation.

One of the elders among the short bear-like primates, whom she liked to call Dumbledore because he had a rather mischievous sense of humor, had told her, “We know it does not solve the problem. But it certainly does not hurt.”

Twitching his teddy-bear ears, he had then pointed out that she seemed rather sad, and that he would be happy to provide her with his own particular brand of therapy.

She thanked him and declined, citing the need to maintain scientific objectivity. What she did not tell him was that she was suffering from morning sickness, and that the lovely couple who had impregnated her had rather spoiled her when it came to receiving cunnilingus.

As they proceeded to demonstrate a few short months later, there on Luna’s bed.

  
  


: :

  
  


Harry hissed as two tongues ran up the length of his cock. His fists deeply embedded in two beautiful heads of hair.

He had honestly never felt anything quite so…

But what he was thinking was, _Luna’s carrying a girl. My daughter._ And then, as Luna went to work on his head and Ginny on his balls, he thought about what a girl with his genes would look like. _Poor kid._

  
  


: :

  
  


Ginny howled as Luna moaned into her cunt, her full curves rippling with the impact from Harry thrusting into her from behind. One more thrust shocked through both women. Two…

Harry threw his head back and bayed.

Sated, all three collapsed.

After a few minutes—or perhaps an hour—Ginny ran her fingers through Luna’s sweat-soaked mop of hair. “Loony,” she murmured, all of them almost asleep. “Lots of birthdays we can celebrate, you know.”

“Heh,” said Harry.

“Mmm,” answered Luna, humming into Ginny’s cunt a tuneless tune of such deep satisfaction that Ginny could not help but follow it into a sanctuary of shadow and slumber.


End file.
